


What a Terrible Idea

by LadyMurasaki



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Karkat - Freeform, Masturbation, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 08:45:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5660188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMurasaki/pseuds/LadyMurasaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat discovers he has made a terrible mistake. Now he must take the consequences in hand.</p>
<p>Set after Chapter 11/6 of The Casanova of Quadrants. Canon-compliant with that story. You could probably get away with reading this by itself if you really wanted to. It's basically just smut, whoops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Terrible Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Casanova of Quadrants](https://archiveofourown.org/works/718752) by [LadyMurasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMurasaki/pseuds/LadyMurasaki). 



Why. _Why_ did you take his shirt off? Why did you take _your_ shirt off? What the FUCK were you thinking even agreeing to this? Oh, that’s right, you _weren’t_ thinking. Not with your _head_ anyway. Fuck. “FUCK!” 

Karkat knocked the back of his head against the shower wall again, enough to smart but not enough (unfortunately) to smash his own skull in and end his miserable excuse for a life. It didn’t really distract him from the movements of his bulge either. 

He’d never dared to dream that John -- stupid, insufferable, buck-toothed John -- would find anything remotely hateable about the sad sack that was Karkat, not even a hint of a rival. (He could _sweep the floor_ with that little twig Strider but fuck, _John_ , John might actually pose a fight. He’d never thought of a garishly colored clown-hammer as anything other than an idiotic fantasy toy of the Mirthful Messiahs but _god_ what Karkat wouldn’t give to see John swing that stupid thing around in a serious fight. A fight against _him_. With their shirts off.) 

It took him a while to realize that his hand had tangled itself with his bulge, and Karkat paused, staring blankly at the shower wall, his brain stuttering to a halt for a few seconds over the concept of _‘You are jerking your bulge to the thought of your best friend right now, braindead looneyblock son of a flying shit .’_

No overwhelmingly good reason not to came to mind, and so the thought was summarily dismissed with a muttered, “Fuck it.” He readjusted his grip and slid down to the floor, eyes closed against the droplets of water. 

Human skin felt so frail. Hell, it was so frail; it had taken no effort at all to break with his teeth, he hadn’t even really meant to ( _Like hell you didn’t mean to you wanted to bite him all over, bite him until he squirmed and cried out and smear that disgusting blood everywhere, mark him in your own color without even opening a vein of your own_ ) but he’d seen the teeth marks, barely there but recognizable. He’d probably scratched him. God, he hoped he’d left scratches, that John would go to change later and find the marks and have to think about it again. ( _no no don’t make him remember it’s disgusting he’ll never look at you again_ ) 

It had been so hard to just get up and leave. He just wanted to wrestle the human back down to the resting platform and kiss him harder, rougher, feel John struggling under his chest, find out how hard those flimsy nails and dull teeth and press into his hide. ( _He didn’t want it like that, you waste of air, he wanted to get away from your fetid carcass_ ) ( _You wanted him to pin you down, smother you in his scent, hate you like your filthiest fantasies, but that’ll never happen, no one will ever hate you like that_ ) Karkat bared his teeth at nothing and snarled loudly at the empty block, giving his bulge a sharp twist. 

There weren’t exactly a lot of resources to human biology on this spinning rock to nowhere, but there were a few books that he had lifted from Rose, and some of them were of the steamier persuasion. He had a rough idea of human anatomy. Karkat painstakingly untangled his hand from his bulge and brushed knuckles against his nook. John and his _‘not a homosexual’_ hoofbeast-shit… John would want his nook. Karkat was more of a bulge troll, but… he muffled a needy trill as his mental John pressed fingers inside, exploring. His own fingers were bigger than John’s and tipped in sharper claws, and the difference just frustrated him worse. He fisted his bulge with his free hand and panted, half breathy words that might have been a wind-sock clad doofus’ name. 

John would be gentle. He was just too cheerful to be anything but. He probably didn’t have a hateful bone in his body. He’d stroke and tease and kiss, almost red but _so frustratingly gentle_ to Karkat’s burning hatred it would be practically a taunt. For all Karkat growled and clawed John would stroke and pet and whisper compliments and stupid little things. The hands on Karkat slowed when all he wanted was _faster, harder, now, hurry up and fuck me you pretentious fuckjamming bulgesucker, I hate you, I hate you so fucking much--_

He bit his lip and coppery blood filled his mouth. A shaky warble bubbled up from his throat as his nook clenched on his fingers and bulge took on a strangle hold. His fantasy dissolved like so much shower steam and Karkat was left with a lap full of swirling pinkish water and his own warble echoing back at him. He thumped his head against the wall again and wished it was hard enough to knock him out. 

That had been a fucking terrible idea.


End file.
